


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by SweetsAndTreats



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bickering, Blood, Fluff, Hemophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season 3 Spoilers, Vampires, anxiety attack, archive assistant elias, because apparently he didn't even work in the archives? the more you know, gertrude-era archives, gore mention, pre-beholding elias, pre-distortion michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetsAndTreats/pseuds/SweetsAndTreats
Summary: "Well, sorry to break it to you Mikes, but don't think you'll be getting that luxury with the vampire."Michael just rolled his eyes, sending Elias a withering look. "You know, it's just a bit sad at this point, how hung up you are on this whole vampire thing.""You...really don't think it's a vampire, do you?" Elias sounded incredulous."No..." Michael began apprehensively, "On account of them not being real. I just said that.""Hey, sort of a strange question," Elias began, bemused, "Do you believe in the supernatural? Like, any of it?""No, not really. Why? Is that so strange?""Do you," Elias broke off, seeming to struggle with the statement, "Even realize where you work?"--Elias and Michael end up hiding for their lives in a coat closet while investigating a statement together. Michael has a hard time dealing with the existence of vampires, and Elias turns out to be a surprising source of comfort.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Michael Shelley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

Michael's day had started off extremely well.

He'd finally managed to finish looking into leads for Gertrude regarding some bungee jumping incident where the chord had never pulled taught. She had _even_ paid him a compliment. It was a very stiff, mumbled 'good work", but Michael knew that was gleaming praise coming from her.

They'd been carrying his favorite type of muffin in the cafe he stopped by sometimes on his way into work, and the underground had been pleasantly uncrowded this morning as well. Plus maintenance had finally gotten around to fixing the heating for the offices last afternoon, which was a blessed relief, as Michael had been going home half-frozen for the past several weeks.

He had even decided to wear his favorite sweater today: muted pink, with these fun little colorful shapes and spiraling patterns all across it. Overall, it had been a pretty good morning.

But see, nothing ever went that smoothly for Michael, not all in a row. So he really shouldn't have been surprised at how quickly things had gone horribly wrong.

And yet, Michael was still trying to puzzle out how in god's name he'd managed to find himself crammed in a coat closet with the least sufferable person in the archives, fearing for his life.

"Bit cold in here," Elias muttered, rubbing his upper arms quickly with the broad palms of his hands.

"No shit," Michael hissed under his breath. "Now would you shut up already? She's going to find us if you keep talking so loud."

Quiet as he could, Michael shifted towards the closet door, gently nudging it open and peeking through. He squinted a moment in the pale light, but the narrow hallway beyond sat as empty and sparse as the last several times he'd checked. Not even the thick layer of dust coating everything appeared disturbed, thank god.

"You know, she's going to _find us_ because you keep poking your nose out like nothing's changed. I mean, really Michael, what do you expect to see anyways?" Elias half-whispered as Michael pulled back inside the closet. "Either a bloody angry vampire will be charging at us trying to kill you or not, there's no sense in risking our position so often to get a quick look."

"Oh, not this again," Michael grumbled, doing his best to shuffle against the wall on his side of the closet. There wasn't much space in there to begin with, nevermind with two people squeezed in, and his knees kept knocking against Elias's. "Will you just shut it with that nonsense, already? I don't care how paranoid you are, we might actually _die_ in this house, and I'm not going to have it be while you scream at her for being a _vampire_."

A thick, mink fur coat drifted across Michael's shoulder, tickling his neck and the side of his face. It smelled heavily of dust and mothballs, and Michael had to hold in a cough.

Elias scoffed, leaning back until his head knocked lightly on the back of the closet. "I can't tell if you're joking, or just stupid. I mean, you _saw_ it. That thing had teeth like kitchen knives and I don't think I saw it's mouth move once since we got here. Definitely a vampire."

Elias chuckled humorlessly, letting his head slouch forward. "She totally knew, that damn old maid. Sending us to investigate a statement about a fucking vampire. Wondered why Gertrude was being so coy about it all when she handed me the address. Could've at least given us something of a heads up."

"Now, that's a bit harsh--" Michael started.

"I could have brought along some sort of weapon. A large stick, maybe. Or perhaps one of those behemoth boxes of misfiled statement papers the crone's always making me haul around. I bet one of those to the head, and the vamp'd be out cold--"

"Don't talk about Ms. Robinson like that," Michael snapped in a sharp whisper. "How the hell was she supposed to know this place would be lived in by some maniac?"

He snorted. "Believe me, she knew exactly what was going on. Nothing gets by that woman," Elias tapped his finger restlessly against his knee.

"How could she? I won't believe Ms. Robinson would put us in danger like this. She probably had no clue the lead she sent us out on would end up being so...insane. Otherwise, she'd have phoned the police or something," Michael defended hotly. "You're just mad she forced you to come along."

"Honestly, do you even hear yourself sometimes? You sound like a teacher's pet. You're always running around after Gertrude like some little duckling." Elias lightly cleared his throat, adopting a mocking falsetto, "'Oh, Ms. Robinson ma'am need anything else? Someone to kiss your ass maybe? Or run through fire, perhaps?'"

"Stop that," Michael warned.

"'I'd do anything for you, Ms. Robinson! Want some sugar and cream in your coffee? Maybe a bit of my blood in there, as well? The deed to my flat? My firstborn child?'"

"I actually like doing the work we're assigned, Elias, is that such a novel concept to you?" Michael huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "You're being ridiculous."

"'Yes of _course_ I'll happily march right into a vampire den for you Miss, it would be my _pleasure_ to lay down my life so you can keep recording your silly ghost stories. Oh and sure, why not drag poor, unassuming Elias in on it as well? Not like he's got anything better to do with his time than laze about and smoke pot all day, let's get him killed off too then shall we? I'm sure you've been needing a change of scenery in your office staff anyways, and I am _oh so happy_ to help!'"

Michael sent Elias a tight, withering look, waiting for him to talk himself out. When he seemed to have finally finished his piece, Michael let out a long, low sigh. "Are you quite done?"

"Yeah, should be," Elias said, an irritatingly smug grin slighting his face.

Michael let his head thunk hollowly against the wall, tilting his gaze towards the door. "I can't believe I'm going to die with the most obnoxious idiot in England." He turned an accusing glare on Elias, "Your voice will probably be the last thing I ever hear, do you realize that? That sounds awful. I'll die having my last words be something no doubt _insufferably_ stupid coming from you. Probably something to do with vampires."

Elias tapped his chin thoughtfully, not answering right away. Michael sighed, turning away and resisting the urge to check the door again.

"Nah," Elias said finally, "I'll probably go out saying something much cooler. Maybe threaten to haunt it once I'm dead. Always thought people who did that sort of thing right before they kicked it sounded pretty hardcore. Although, who the hell knows if you even _can_ haunt a vampire." Elias shrugged.

"Honestly, though? I'll probably just be cussing out your beloved archivist some more. Or, oh, it could always end up just being garbled screaming. In fact, that's probably more likely than anything."

When Michael didn't react, Elias peered over at him curiously. Instead of responding with some sharp retort or equally antagonizing defense over Gertrude, he was staring off at a small wood knot in the wall, thinking. He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, shrugging his loose sweater a bit snugger around him.

"Let's say you could choose," Michael started slowly, "Your last words, I mean. What do you think they'd be?"

"Right now?" Elias asked.

"Sure, why not? Since you may end up actually needing them, as it stands. Might as well come up with a few rough drafts."

Elias seemed a bit surprised by the question, blinking dazedly several times, before letting a long breath puff out through his cheeks. Tilting his head to the side, he ran a hand through his hair, humming thoughtfully. "Hmm, well...can't say I haven't thought about it before. Especially with the sort of work we get into."

Michael snorted. "What, think you're going to be running into a lot of danger as a _library tech assistant_?"

"We're here now, aren't we?" Elias posed mildly. Michael found he had no argument for that, so he kept his mouth shut.

"But...let me think," Elias continued, drilling his fingers against one knee, "I'd always liked the idea of threatening to haunt whatever unlucky bastard finally decides to punch my ticket. Or curse them, maybe. I'd say something specific too, like tell them I'll make all their food taste like cement. Work or not, they'll always be thinking of my cheeky face when they get a taste of something rotten." Elias grinned, pleased by his own notion.

"How about you? Ever thought about how you'd like to go out?" He turned on Michael suddenly, seeming genuinely curious.

Michael shook his head, expression souring. "Not really, no. It's a rather macabre line of thought," he said, folding his hands on top of his knees. "I've never paid it much mind before. Never needed to. Or well, thought I didn't."

"We've got some time to kill now. You know, while we wait to _be_ killed, and all," Elias grinned, raising his eyebrows at his own terrible joke.

"You're awful," Michael sighed, not giving him the satisfaction. He leaned forward, chin resting against the knuckle of his thumb. "Though I suppose...well, I'd always wanted to die in my sleep, since that sounds like the most painless. So...nothing then? I'd rather not be aware of my death enough ahead of time that I'd have to plan my last words."

"Well, sorry to break it to you Mikes, but don't think you'll be getting that luxury with the vampire."

Michael just rolled his eyes. "You know, it's getting just a bit sad at this point, how hung up you are on this whole vampire thing."

"Alright then, genius, what do _you_ suppose it could be?"

"For one, not some gothic urban legend that turns into a bat and gets people hot over them in novels," Michael scoffed. "Though if you're asking seriously, I think it's someone deeply disturbed whose gone and decided murder might be a fun little side hobby.

"Probably a serial killer, at least that's what I think," Michael shuddered, memories of their brief experience in the front parlor flashing to the front of his mind, "Remember when she came at us earlier? She clearly wasn't messing about. I think she's done this sort of thing before."

"Oh. Yeah, no, I'm sure it's no amateur in hunting for the food it _literally_ needs to survive," Elias snorted.

"Seriously, Elias, I've had enough of this," Michael sat up, turning angrily. "Will you give it a rest already? I don't care how into the supernatural you are, vampires aren't _real_."

Michael expected some scathing retort, or at the very least a disgruntled glare out of Elias. But instead, he only blinked at Michael almost curiously, with a look of absolute disbelief on his face.

"What?" Michael shot a bit defensively. When Elias remained silent, "Got something to say?"

"You really don't think it's a vampire? You're not messing around?" He sounded incredulous.

"No," Michael began apprehensively, "On account of them not being real. I just said that."

"Hey, sort of a strange question," Elias began, still seeming utterly bemused. "Do you believe in the supernatural? Like, any of it?"

"No...not really?" Michael didn't like the look on Elias's face, "Why? Is that really so strange?"

There was a long pause, which involved a lot of Elias opening and closing his mouth and even more shaking his head in bewilderment. "Do you," Elias seemed to struggle with the statement, "Even _realize_ where you work?"

"Obviously," Michael started defensively, "I know the institute deals with a lot of mythology, and lore, that sort of thing. And they'll sometimes let people ramble about some creepy experience they thought they had, for whatever reason, but...none of it's _real_." There was a drawn-out pause, before realization finally hit Michael, "Right? I mean, Elias, you _know_ it's all made up, don't you?"

The long, baffled silence was as much an answer as any. "Hold on, don't tell me you actually believe any of the stuff we investigate?"

"Oh my god," Elias marveled with another shake of his head. "I cannot believe this."

"Come on now, don't start acting like I'm the one being ridiculous here--"

"Michael please, _please_ tell me you're joking. You don't--how long have you worked for Gertrude now?"

"Um, w-well, it's been," Michael started meekly, taking a moment to think back. "About...four and a half years? Pretty much?"

Elias shook his head. "No fucking way."

"Elias..."

"Of course!" Letting out a hugely irritated huff, Elias sat back, staring up at the ceiling with a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Oh, wouldn't it just _figure_ I'm stuck in here with the only person in the whole damn institute that 'doesn't believe' in the crap we literally _get paid_ to stick our noses into. Unbelievable."

"Well, of course I don't!" Michael shot back, beginning to get a bit irritated himself. "What's your problem anyway? If anything, I'm the only one of us acting sane! Has it really become so abnormal to follow science and logic these days?"

"Yeah," Elias shot Michael a stern look, "If you want to get your head torn off by a fucking vampire. Christ--we had a statement on them last month, even!"

"Oh, and how would you know," Michael spat accusingly, "Like you've ever helped with any of the filing."

"I _know,_ 'cause you were too grossed out to get through all of it since you've got that thing with blood, and ended up dumping the rest on me," Elias replied hotly, gesturing broadly with his hands as he spoke, "Seriously, Michael, if you thought all this was horseshit, why get so bothered by a little bit of _made up gore._ "

"W-well, it--" Michael leaned back, crossing his arms indignantly over his chest, "It was way too realistic! Sorta disturbingly so. Oh, thanks for bringing that up, by the way. Nice way of helping me calm down."

"Really, now, I wonder why it was so real-sounding, hm?" Elias shook his head, regarding Michael like he was the world's biggest idiot for not believing in literal fairy tales.

"They were probably just, I dunno, some sort of horror enthusiast or something. You've got to have a creative mind to make up any of that nonsense, anyways," Michael retorted.

"You've been researching that 'nonsense' for four years of your life, and only now I'm hearing you thought it was all complete tosh? Seriously, have you ever even _been_ to artifacts? They've got a floating flipping teapot, _right there_ next to the door. Just hanging out, probably cursing the whole damn place."

"I...I've never actually been to artifacts," Michael humphed righteously, "Emma said we weren't allowed, as archive staff."

Elias stopped himself mid-word, face falling slack. After a pause, he sneered, shaking his head. Although this time, the sour expression didn't appear to be directed at Michael. "Christ...of course it was her. I bet Emma's been the one yanking your chain about all this being rubbish too, hasn't she?"

"Well, she certainly hasn't been entertaining psychotic ghost stories, that's for certain," Michael shot, accidentally stuffing his shoe against Elias's as he shuffled back.

"There's something seriously wrong with that woman. God, she's always given me bad energy. Bet she put you up to it on purpose, too, the sadistic ass--"

"Oh _come on_ Elias. What, going after Gertrude not enough for you? Now you've got to bully Emma as well?" Michael snorted, "Honestly, is there anyone in the archives you actually like? Be honest. Actually, no, no, scratch that, just try and name one person you don't _adamantly hate_."

There was a long second of silence, where Elias tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You know, Eric isn't actually all that terrible," he said finally.

"You're such a jackass!" Michael shouted, lunging forward with the intent to smack Elias in the shoulder. Instead, however, he found his wrists suddenly caught between broad, dry hands.

"Oh, really, I'm the bad guy in this now? Not Emma and -- oh no, of _course not_ the person who literally sent you to get your blood drained by some overgrown mosquito?" Elias grunted, attempting to throw Michael off of him.

Michael struggled to free his hands, pushing against the back wall with his knees in an attempt to get more weight behind him. "I cannot believe you right now! Are you joking? Seriously, do you even hear half the idiotic nonsense that falls out of your mouth?" Michael demanded.

Finally managing to get some leverage, he pushed out of Elias's grip, surging forward so his hands landed on square shoulders.

"Get off me!" Elias shouted.

"Not until you apologize for being a jackass," Michael countered hotly.

"I swear Michael, if you--"

Elias cut himself off, growing suddenly and eerily quiet. It took a half-second of confused silence for Michael to understand why, but once he had, his hands fell limply from Elias's shoulders.

Their little fight had been abruptly interrupted by the not-entirely far off sound of a door slamming loudly down the hall.

Soon as he realized this, Michael's throat had started to open around a startled shriek, but less than a moment later Elias's hand clamped securely over his mouth, silencing him. His hand smelled like cigarette smoke.

Elias had his other hand was held to his own mouth, covering the steady sound of his breathing.

Shit, right, no noise, not if they didn't want to get caught. Christ, and here they'd been shouting at each other nearly full volume like idiots.

The silence that stretched out from that moment forward felt impossibly long. Never before had Michael taken the idea of a moment seeming an eternity seriously, but right then he was positive the quiet, tense air hung around them far longer than a handful of seconds.

Michael barely dared breath in this time, only mildly aware of his own heart, beating rapidly in his chest. And the way his hands were shaking like they were going to fall off, both clutched desperately to him.

And then: footsteps. Small _click, click, click_ s as a distinctly heeled shoe made its way carefully down the hall. Michael shut his eyes tightly, trying desperately to keep from crying out as the footsteps slowly made their way towards the closet door.

That wasn't all, every few steps, the light clicks were accompanied by a low, dragging _shwoop_. The sound of fabric on fabric. The friction seemed to source from something heavy being dragged along the rug of the carpet, like a large bundle.

 _Click, click, click_ , each one rattled in Michael's skull unpleasantly, each sparking a fresh wave of terror.

The woman seemed to pause a moment, ceasing her clicking long enough for Michael to suck in a tight breath. It was short-lived, however, and once again the agonizingly slow lilt of knocks had Michael wanting nothing more than to spring out the closet door and try his chances booking it for the entrance fast as his legs would take him.

...But then what? The townhouse they'd wandered into earlier had proved to be a veritable maze of old decor, winding halls, and dust motes. That's how they'd ended up hiding out in a coat closet, to begin with.

The sound was close now, so much so Michael could swear he saw the shadow of the woman drag into view over the wan light filtering in from under the door crack, blocking some of it out and casting the shadows in the closet a shade darker.

Logic, as well as most conscious thought honestly, were out the window and all Michael could focus on was his breathing. Careful on his inhales, not too loud. Force it slow, don't get caught.

He found himself leaning heavily against the warm mass beside him, finding a small (but not nearly significant enough) amount of comfort in that.

_Click. Click._

That awful, heeled gait drew to an abrupt stop, just as a large shadow settled across the door with one final _shwoop_ , blotting out any remaining light.

Michael wanted to shut his eyes against it, to block out what he knew was going to be a slow and likely gruesome death, but he forced them open. If she'd truly found them...he had to try and run. He just had to try.

But another, impossibly long moment later, and still no such thing happened, and the only thing that infiltrated the closet was a long, stretched silence.

Then, the smell hit him.

It was like ground beef, that had been left to sit in a dumpster for a few too many days. That terrible, dull meaty smell mixed with the beginnings of rot and decay, the sharp tang of metal underlying it all.

Michael was forced to breathe through his mouth, fingernails digging crescent shapes into the palms of his hands as he desperately fought not to gag at the putrid odor.

He didn't have long to dwell on it. The dark shadow under the door had begun to...move. Growing, and seeping into the room slowly. It pooled around the crack at the bottom, collecting only there at first before beginning to gradually crawl ever closer to where they sat on the floor. Slow, snaking, and viscous.

When it finally hit Michael's hand, welded to the floor in fear, he found it was wet. Thick, and sticky, but unmistakably liquid nonetheless. That was the point where several things began to slowly pull together in Michael's sluggish, fear-addled mind.

The moment he realized the oozing darkness was blood, he nearly cried out in horror. But the hand around his mouth tightened at the first signs of movement, so instead all he was able to get out was a small whimper.

"Shh, shh," he heard someone mutter comfortingly very close to his ear.

Michael felt a hand, firm and sobering, land on his shoulder: trailing down his arm before slowly lifting his own, blood-soaked hand out of the puddle. Michael's hand was drawn up, pressed against the firm safety of a warm chest.

The sensation of his skin lifting out of that vile pool made Michael want to scream again, but at that same moment, an arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer and securing the breath in Michael's lungs.

His back now flush with Elias's, Michael gradually began to pick up on the deep, borderline rasping, breaths coming out of the pair of lungs behind his. They were carefully spaced out, even, and purposefully slow. He began to try and sync his own breaths with Elias's, focusing on the warmth and the rhythm, and not on how his tongue tasted of sharp metal.

When the darkness in the room began to secede, the closet once again brightening with the dim light of the hall, Michael nearly cried out in relief. It was short-lived, however: as he quickly realized that the fading darkness was not because the shadow had moved away from the door, but because the thick slab of oak and faded polish had begun to slowly creak inwards.

The sheer terror that stabbed through Michael was blinding: and if it weren't for the body wrapped around him, he'd surely have broken down on the spot into a shrieking, babbling mess.

As it was, Elias drew him closer, arms tightening in a clear warning to not move as the crack of light that had formed along the edge of the door began to broaden. A sliver became a chunk became half-open, and with each fractional movement of the door came another sickening creak.

But it stopped: just before opening fully it paused. It was like everything had stopped for one, long moment: the door, his breathing, even Michael's heart began to shake and sputter.

And then, slowly, it began to slide shut again. This time, the hinges protesting quietly as the closet was once again plunged into darkness with one fluid motion.

Another eternity, and suddenly there was a sharp _click, click, click_ just outside the closet, moving perpendicular from them. Another creak, a door being opened on the other end of the hall. Then the sound of the body being dragged away from them, becoming muffled as it was pulled from carpet to hardwood.

The sound of the door slamming shut broke through the air like a gunshot, causing Michael to flinch, forcing his eyes closed. He could vaguely hear the dull tapping begin to fade away as it left down an adjacent hall. And then it was totally silent.

For a solid minute, the only sound was the ringing in Michael's ears and his own ragged breaths, disruptive and haggard now that the immediate danger was gone.

"It's alright, Michael, we're alright. She's gone," the voice in his ear was low, soothing. Anything but what he felt in that moment.

At some point, Elias had removed the hand pressed against Michael's mouth. He opened it then, trying to speak. To respond, make an affirmative, anything. He couldn't even form the words as air.

His hand was drying, turning sticky as the air bronzed the scarlet he knew covered his palm. Michael could feel it on his skin as it drained into the dry cracks on his hand, warm and oozing and disgusting. It had been someone else's life at one point, fading out or faded already. And now it was all over Michael.

Without the shadow of the woman blocking it, Michael could now clearly see the sheen on the puddle from the sickly yellow light filtering in under the door. It was the last crack in the mask of haphazard calm he'd forced on himself.

Gibberish, non-sounds began to spill out hoarse and dry from his throat, inevitably taking the form of small cries and whimpers.

"Michael? Hey, Mikes, you doing alright there?" Elias said softly, a hand lightly squeezing his shoulder.

Michael couldn't answer, couldn't possibly begin to attempt to come up with one coherent thought. Let alone a whole spoken sentence. So instead, he responded with another pitiful whimper.

"Jeez...you--you're really shaking there, aren't you? Shit, right, of course. You've got that thing with bloo--well. Nevermind that, now. Let's, ah, let's just get you sat down," Elias gently began to untangle his arms from Michael, attempting to shift him to the side. But Michael really did not think he was in the right state of mind at the moment to be moved, so he sank forward into Elias without budging, clinging desperately to the fabric of his jacket as he buried his face in Elias's shoulder.

"Ah, well, okay alright we don't have to do that for right now. We can, um," Elias paused a moment, "We'll just sit here for a bit, yeah? Take some deep breaths?" Then quieter, to himself, "Shit."

Elias lightly patted his back, eventually settling to rest his hand against Michael's shoulder again. The significance of it as an anchoring force was indescribable.

"Christ, Michael, listen you've got to stop hyperventilating like that or you'll pass out. Which would be seriously bad, especially if we end up having to--er. Well, anyways, let's start by keeping you conscious for now, alright?"

Alright, ok, deep breaths was something Michael could do. So he did what he had before: focusing on Elias's own breathing. The steady, if not a bit quick, rise and fall of his chest against Michael pressed into him a sense of calm and assurance that allowed him to, slowly, begin to match his own breaths to the tempo Elias set.

It worked, well enough, and he was able to settle his heart into more normal parameters.

"Great, yeah, that's it Mikes. Nice and slow," Elias urged gently, giving Michael the room he needed to breathe. He practiced it slowly, deliberately counting off in his head between intakes. Again, and again, until Michael had regained enough clarity to realize he'd somehow managed to get himself in a rather awkward position curled up in Elias's lap, stuck to him like some monkey.

Awkward but...comforting. And Michael still wasn't sure he was quite ready to be seated on his own just yet. Not with that ominous puddle threatening the corners of his vision.

No, for now, Elias was just going to have to put up with it.

"S-shit," Michael managed finally, his own voice sounding very small in his ears, half-drowned out by the ringing.

"What, what is it?" Elias pressed, concern clear in his voice.

"M-my sweater...it," Michael took in a long breath, exhaling slowly as he continued weakly, "It was my favorite one. Now it's got blood on the cuffs...s'probably ruined."

After a moment, Elias chuckled quietly, the vibrations of it shuddering through Michael's own chest. "Well, glad you're back with us Michael. And that your first concern is, who could've ever guessed, the state of your clothes."

"I'm serious," Michael pouted into Elias's shoulder, tilting his head out so the side of his face brushed lightly against the hood of his jacket. Michael had to take a moment, and another few deep breaths, before he was ready to finish the thought, swallowing a bit of the dryness from his mouth. "It was a really nice sweater."

Elias hummed quietly, "You did look good in that sweater."

"Right?" Michael lifted his head, turning towards Elias. He was thrown off a second, realizing their faces were much closer together than he'd anticipated. With another grounding breath, Michael forced himself to continue, "I suppose I could try and...try to get it dry cleaned? No clue how I'd go about explaining the stain though..."

Michael felt the casual rise and fall of Elias's shoulders as he shrugged. "You could say you had a bad time cutting into some steak."

"Oh, you're no help," Michael let out a long, shaky sigh. The sound felt good in his lungs and working his way up his throat. It calmed him enough to loosen the vice grip he'd had on Elias's jacket, at the very least.

"Oh, ah, sorry for sort of squashing you against the wall like this," Michael began a bit awkwardly.

"Hm, you know, I hadn't actually noticed," Elias joked, only for Michael to send him a sharp look. "Hey, don't worry so much. I'm actually just fine how we are right now. Could use a bit of old fashioned human contact after all that, anyway."

Regardless, Michael began to slowly untangle himself, sending him another strange look when it took Elias a full moment to release his own grip on Michael's shoulder. Finally, he managed to shuffle off, miraculously managing to not knee him too harshly anywhere painful.

Michael fell with a small _thud_ into the small space directly next to Elias: sandwiching himself firmly between him and the wall. Their shoulders were pressed together, but then...Elias had been onto something when he'd mentioned human contact being helpful.

Elias chuckled. "That desperate to get away from me already, huh, Mikes?"

Without looking, Michael let out a withering sigh, drawing his knees up to his chest. "What on earth are you going on about?"

Elias shook his head. "No idea. Think I'm a bit delirious, honestly." Michael hummed an affirmative. "God...my hands are still shaking," Elias muttered, holding his arms out in front of him.

"Bet mine are worse," Michael shoved his own hands next to Elias's rather harshly, only further proving his point as to how wound up he still was. All the while, he kept his gaze carefully on Elias, away from the puddle by the door.

"Honestly, everything need to be a competition with you?" Elias marveled, letting his arms drop quickly to his sides. Michael would have done the same, but with so little space between them, he instead took to folding them across his knees.

"No," Michael said shortly, following it with a brief pause. "But for the record, I do think my trauma's at least twice as bad as yours." He managed a small, half-smile.

"Never change, Shelley," Elias was shaking his head, but the ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Y'know, I bet if we had been caught back there, you'd be bragging right now about how much better your blood tasted. Or how you could die quicker, or some nonsense like that."

Michael shuffled to the side a bit, crossing his ankles. The thick fabric of his socks dragged uncomfortably against an exposed bit of his leg, so he leaned forward and pushed them back down into his shoe. Michael kept his eyes carefully on his fingers as he did so, the morbid temptation for them to stray almost unbearable.

When he finally sat back up, Michael caught Elias staring at his hands almost curiously as he folded them back on his knees. After a moment, he seemed to realize Michael was staring right back at him, and quickly looked away.

"You know," Michael mused softly, "You talk about it like we still aren't going to be caught. As if we won't end up bleeding out in some dusty hallway or something, like that other..." He trailed off, unable to finish the gruesome thought.

"Michael, hey," Elias laid a hand gently over Michael's, drawing his gaze over. Elias's eyes were dark and harder to read in the dim light, but there was an unmistakably stubborn determination that managed to pierce through the gloom regardless. "I'm not going to let you die in here. Got that?"

Michael snorted, breaking away. "Sure. Right. Tell that to the guy that just got dragged across the rug."

"No, see though, that's exactly it, isn't it? That thing probably popped out for a snack instead of wasting the effort of tracking us down. Means it's likely going to fill up enough on that, it shouldn't give a damn about either of us for a good while. We've got the chance to get out while it's distracted."

"Elias, she _killed_ a man. What makes you possibly think we have any hope of making it out of here? We already had one close call, if she hadn't chosen to only open the door halfway," Michael shook his head with a humorless laugh, "No way she's letting us go."

"Michael, hey come on now, you need to calm down. You're starting to hyperventilate again," Elias pressed, tightening his grip over Michael's hands. "Hey, Mikes, you hear me?"

When Michael didn't look up, Elias set a hand against the side of his face, tilting his head up. Elias's hand was warm, the skin of his thumb rough and dry as it lightly grazed Michael's cheek. Through the sheen of unspilled tears that had begun to cloud Michael's vision, he was met with a pair of dark-set, determined eyes.

"I'm going to get you out of this," Elias repeated, conviction unwavering.

Michael sniffed. "Okay," he said faintly, "Alright." He didn't believe it not...not fully. But Elias seemed so set on it, it almost made Michael want to.

"Alright then," Elias held his gaze a moment longer, before letting his hand drop and glancing towards the door.

After a long moment, he rolled forward so he was on his hands and knees, beginning the slow journey towards the door while all the while carefully avoiding the dark stain on the ground. Balancing himself on one hand, Elias carefully swung the handle by fractions at a time. Holding it still a second, he took in a small breath, before slowly inching out the door.

Elias glanced out quickly, before shutting it with less care and leaning back. He looked a bit green.

"Coast's clear. For now, at least," Elias grimaced, before turning to Michael again. "Not going to lie though, it's not a pretty sight. Though you'll just have to power through, I'm afraid."

Michael swallowed thickly, small waves of nausea rolling through his stomach and sending him rocking forward. He swallowed thickly, attempting to steel himself.

"Alright." Michael quietly untangled himself from the floor, rising until he was in a slightly uncomfortable crouched position. Pins and needles rocketed up and down his legs from being stretched out after so long.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Michael was a bit surprised how scared he sounded, though he'd intended the question to be cutting, it came out more as a plea for guidance.

"Make a run for it, while she's distracted with that other bloke. Best chance we'll get, probably." Elias spoke confidently, almost nonchalantly, but the worried set of his mouth was telling.

"We still have no idea how to manage the layout of this place, I'll remind you," Michael had to stifle a sneeze, as he accidentally bumped into another fur coat, sending a cloud of dust puffing out into his face.

"We'll...we can figure something out," Elias tried.

"That's what you said last time. And then we got stuck here."

"No, _last time_ I think I just took off in a direction. Wasn't much time to think, after that thing got it's jaws open."

"And I followed your lead," Michael shifted around the perimeter of the closet until he was nearly brushing against Elias.

"That was your own choice. And anyway, we're still _alive_ aren't we?" Elias reminded him glibly.

"Yeah yeah," Michael muttered, rolling his eyes. He'd taken to breathing through his mouth again: the tangy smell of gore almost overwhelmingly strong this close to the door.

Elias took in a long breath. "Right then. Ready?"

"As ever. Shit, we're actually going to get killed, aren't we?"

"Don't be so negative. I said we're getting out of this." Elias put his hand on the doorknob, gripping the grimy metal with long, still subtly shaking fingers.

A moment passed. Then two, and Elias still had his hand on the knob. "Well? Are we going to try and run for our lives or not?" Michael said, not quite managing to keep the edging hysteria from his voice. He'd been trying for light-hearted.

Elias took in another deep breath. "Look, Michael...it really is a bit of a scene out there. Are you absolutely certain you're ready?"

"I mean," Michael huffed quietly, "There's really no helping it at this point, now is there?" Despite his best efforts to contain it, Michael felt a small shudder run up his shoulders.

Elias seemed hesitant, expression fixed in an odd way on Michael. He was about to mention something, when Elias suddenly extended his hand out.

He peered at it curiously, not entirely sure what Elias's angle was. Michael tried sending him a questioning look, but Elias had his gaze set firmly on the door once again, cheeks colored slightly.

"Are you--you're being serious?" Michael got out, not quite managing to keep his voice from cracking off the last word.

"If it...helps with the blood. Then I don't mind. Just," he muttered sharply under his breath, shoving his hand out further, "Just take it. Before I start having second thoughts."

Michael nodded slowly, eventually extending his hand and allowing Elias to grasp it firmly in his own.

"Right then," Elias murmured, gripping Michael's hand firmer. The weight was sold, warm and broad around Michael's. Although, it did feel as if Elias were in desperate need of some lotion.

"Now, seriously Michael, it's--"

"Just open the damn door and let's get this over with," he pressed.

Elias nodded, shifting the handle and slowly cracking open the door.

The light from the hallway was nearly blinding after being trapped in the dark for so long, and Michael was forced to shut his eyes as they burned piercingly into the back of his head.

Which was likely for the best in the end, as there was an immediately discernable shift in the air. It hung heavy and oppressive around Michael, forcing its intensely foul odor down his throat until he could almost taste the awful smell of blood and decay on his tongue.

He took a long, steadying breath, counting backward slowly from ten in his head. Willing himself to open his eyes on the last.

"Actually, maybe it's best you keep them shut. Don't want you fainting," Elias abruptly cut into his train of thought.

Well, that worked just fine for Michael. Instead of responding, he simply nodded. Elias seemed to get the message though, and soon Michael felt a light tug on his hand as he was slowly guided forward. "I'll let you know when to open them again," Elias's voice came surprisingly close to Michael's ear, enough he could feel the hot puff of air tickle the short hairs along the side of his face.

Again, he only nodded.

They made their way down the hall at an impossibly slow pace. A good chunk of time had passed since their close encounter earlier, but somehow Michael could almost tangibly _feel_ the woman's presence in the space around them. Almost as oppressive as the air, it burned into his back and raked freezing fingers down his spine.

The carpet protested dryly beneath his feet, although every few steps his shoes would squelch a bit on the rug instead and slide forward with less friction. Michael fought to picture it as a water leak.

It got easier though, as the wetness beneath him began to taper out some the further they got from the closet until the only thing Michael could feel was the frayed and unused carpet sticking lightly to the soles of his shoes.

"Almost there," Elias's voice was barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, a door directly in front of them let out a shallow, whining creak. Michael stopped, heart freezing in his chest, until realizing after a beat of silence that Elias had been the one to open it.

Michael let himself be led out into the joining room, the door clicking shut behind them. The sound it made was quiet, hardly noticeable, but Michael flinched as if it had been slammed.

"You can open them now," Elias breathed, relief evident in the sighing nature of his voice.

Michael didn't want to. He knew there was no longer any danger of passing out from seeing some gruesome display of human remains decorating the floor, but even still. Opening his eyes would make this _real_ again. Would break him out of the temporary illusion of safety he'd gained in the closet, where he could huddle against Elias and pretend they could just stay there forever.

But he had to focus on getting out now. They were out, and the longer they dawdled the more likely that woman would find them. He...he had to keep going, if only for Elias's sake.

Michael had to blink several times, eyes still adjusting to the bright light. As they did, he discovered they were standing in a broad, den-like room with a faded red sofa crowded in one corner and a fireplace he was sure hadn't been lit once since the house was built in the other. Everything was covered in such a thick layer of dust, it all took on a sickly, grey-ish tint.

"See, that wasn't so terrible," Elias whispered comfortingly, "Oh, probably don't look at your shoes until we get back, though."

Despite the immediate danger of fainting having long since passed, Michael noted that Elias had yet to drop his hand as they continued forward into the next room: another long hallway, this time filled with empty picture frames.

Well, if it was anywhere near as much a comfort to Elias as it was to Michael, he didn't particularly mind.

"Remember which floor we ended up on?" Elias asked quietly, peering around as they emerged into a large room filled with stacks of unopened, moldy books.

"Second. I think. One below the top, anyways, and I think this place only had four stories. At least from how it looked from the garden," Michael was a bit surprised by how calm he sounded as he spoke. He certainly felt far from it.

In fact, his heart was beating so fast in his chest now, that Michael was near certain it might simply leap out: so loud and jarring it would give away their position entirely.

But the further they drew from that awful horror scene, from that terrible woman, the better he began to feel. Well, a bit less knotted up, at least.

Finally, they managed to find a small set of stairs leading down to the second floor another half dozen rooms later after quite a bit of backtracking. At one point, Michael figured they'd even traveled in one huge circle. The next floor down didn't prove to be any easier to navigate. How big was this place even? Far too large, for how cluttered everything was.

At one point, while surveying the dusty floor, it occurred to Michael they may be leaving tracks for their serial killer to follow. He glanced back quickly, throat constricting as he confirmed that yes, while faint, he could clearly make out the indents of his and Elias's shoes on the rough wooden floor.

They'd have to be quick, then. Before she was finished with...whatever she intended on doing with her other victim.

Michael didn't really like entertaining the idea she was a vampire. Not quite so wholeheartedly as Elias, at least, but even he had to admit there were several markedly strange things going on in this place that weren't easily explained away.

"Thank god," Elias breathed ahead of him, drawing back Michael's attention. As they continued around another corner, he saw what had Elias so excited: they'd managed to find the staircase leading down to the ground floor. It was dusty, like everything else, covered in a thick, burgundy carpet that looked as moth-bitten as it was faded.

"Let's go," Michael muttered, "I hate this place."

They'd just about reached the top landing when they both froze in their tracks at the unmistakable sound of a door slamming harshly from the direction they just came. For a long moment, they hung in dead silence, Michael gripping Elias's hand so tightly he must have been cutting off the circulation. Then, came the slow, dreadfully quiet _click, click, click_ that had small bombs going off in Michael's chest.

"Shit, it's found us," Elias urged, a bit less quiet. "Run, Michael, we have to run." There was urgency in his voice as he yanked Michael forward suddenly, stumbling clumsily down the steps. The intention was good, but Elias had ended up overcompensating when he'd yanked on Michael's arm, and he ended up staggering forward quick enough he missed the top step entirely: and then every other one after that.

With a loud crash and a sharp cry, Michael suddenly found himself laying on the floor: an intense, throbbing pain shooting up through his ankle. He tried to cry out again, but all that dribbled through his lips were a series of hurried whimpers.

In the next moment, Elias was crouched on the ground at his side, just as the door at the top of the landing slammed open, revealing a slight woman with long, straight black hair. They both froze. Her eyes were all pupil, burning holes into everything as she quickly scanned the area, glancing over the two of them several times despite being in plain sight. That particular stroke of luck did nothing for the sudden, lurching fear that struck Michael each time those darkened pits grazed across his form, however.

"We've got to go." Without warning, Michael felt Elias wrap his arms around him, and suddenly he was being lifted into the air.

With a horrible, sickening _crack_ from the top of the stairs, the woman let out a long, frustrated cry that sounded for anything more like a roar. Only...well she _didn't_ really. It was like the awful, wailing sound had implanted itself directly into Michael's brain. It held none of the reverberations or echoes it should have in a room this large.

Suddenly, all he could think about was the comment Elias had made earlier about her not having moved her mouth.

Just as she'd begun to angrily descend the staircase, more drifting than running, she disappeared from view entirely around a corner as Elias desperately ran them down another winding hallway.

Michael turned his attention back on Elias then, having to wrap his arms firmly around his neck in order to keep from sliding off. Elias seemed to be having a bit of trouble keeping pace while also having to lug Michael around, but he was doing surprisingly well: shouldering open any door they happened to come across as he ran blindly through the house.

Michael's fingers dug desperately into the hood of Elias's jacket, pulling him closer.

Too terrified to look over his shoulder at their pursuer, Michael buried his face in Elias's chest, breathing in that same strong smell of cigarette smoke. Probably disgusting on any other day, it was the only thing keeping him lucid at the moment with its strange, familiar comfort.

"Shit," Elias's chest rumbled with the force of the curse as they ground to a sudden halt.

Michael glanced up, barely able to concentrate around the blood roaring in his ears. Why'd they stopped? She was going to catch up, couldn't he see that? They needed to keep moving.

But after a moment, Michael realized it had been for good reason. The hall in front of them branched off into two sections, forming a poorly-shaped T. Choose the wrong way, and they may end up more hopelessly trapped. And with the swiftly approaching footsteps at their back, Michael knew they couldn't outrun her for that long. Especially not with him burdening Elias like this.

"That one," Michael croaked out weakly, tugging Elias's jacket in the direction of the hall branching to the left. "We came from there. I remember passing that mirror before," he gestured vaguely towards an ornate, golden mirror halfway down the hall, its surface so smudged and grimy it was nearly opaque.

"You'd better be right," Elias warned, taking off with a bit less momentum down the hall.

God, he hoped so too.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, filling out with more and more of those disgusting mirrors of all shapes and sizes. The sound of their pursuer was gradually growing louder, and when Michael finally risked a peek, he found she'd just turned down the intersection after them. Her eyes were like two dark holes carved out of her skull, maw held wide open to reveal a mouthful of wickedly sharp teeth in multiple rows, like a shark's.

Michael felt his stomach drop, fighting the urge to be sick.

Like a telegraph, suddenly words began to sink into his mind, crammed in there without the woman ever closing her mouth around those horrifying teeth.

_Keep running, boys. You'll only draw this out longer than need be._

Michael couldn't help the shriek that escaped him, and he buried his face in Elias's shoulder again, clinging so tightly it hurt. Forgetting the world, blocking it all out, focusing only on the swaying mass beneath him that was getting them out. Getting him safe.

Finally, after far too long, a large oak door appeared at the end of the curling hall. For a brief moment, as Elias wrestled with the handle, Michael was terrified he'd been wrong. That they'd just stuck themselves in another dead end while that _thing_ drew closer, ready to slit their throats.

Then suddenly, the door swung open and Michael felt hot sunlight press against his skin.

He didn't look back once as Elias darted across the front garden, all the way down the winding dirt road they'd taken up and into the adjoining cul de sac, followed by that dreadful, yowling roar that implanted itself right into his head.

Even as they began to pass normal houses, with normal gardens, and normal kids, and other people walking on the street that were sending them some pretty strange looks, he didn't stop. And Michael continued to not look back. Though he was sure that wretched place was far out of sight by now.

It wasn't until they'd gone several streets like this, for more minutes than he could count, that Elias finally stuttered to a stop beside a long, low-standing stone wall. He did his best to lower Michael down onto it carefully but ended up more dropping him onto the thin ledge than anything, before collapsing down beside him, exhausted.

They sat there for a long moment, ragged breaths filling the silence as they both came down from their respective adrenaline highs. The small handful of passersby that crossed them sent the pair looks between worried and frightened. They must both look a dreadful mess, after all that. But Michael didn't care.

As the rush of running for their lives faded, the pain in Michael's ankle began to flare up again. It pulsed angrily, reminding him that was a problem he was going to have to address sooner than later.

Elias was the first to break the silence, cutting through it with sharp, hysterical laughter. Michael shot him a baffled look, surprised when Elias merely leaned heavily against his side. He struggled to balance himself under the weight, careful not to put any pressure on his bad ankle.

Resitutated, Michael cleared his throat loudly when Elias had finally managed to wear himself out, breath coming in short puffs against Michael's collar.

"So," Michael began slowly, "Vampires are real, then?"

"Christ, you are something else." Elias shifted, letting out another low chuckle. He pressed closer to Michael, head falling against his shoulder and pressing lightly against the crook of his neck.

Michael knew it was harmless enough. Elias probably needed some good old human comfort after that whole ordeal, lord knew he did. Still, it had Michael's pulse speeding a bit.

"What finally did it for you?" Elias asked blandly.

"Saw her with the," Micahel opened his mouth slightly, pointing vaguely at his canines, "the teeth."

"Mmm," Elias hummed, scooting a bit closer.

Michael stared firmly down at the pavement. After a moment, he sighed. "God, look at my shoes," he began woefully. "I'd just cleaned these last week, too. Now I'll have to throw them out, probably. Or, well, maybe I could just paint them the rest of the way red. Think anyone would notice?"

"Again with the clothes," Elias shook his head with a small laugh, "You do realize we just escaped with our lives from the world's largest mozzie, don't you?"

Michael hummed discordantly. "I loved those shoes. Cost me a quarter of my paycheque, too."

"You do look good in those shoes," Elias remarked.

"Yeah..." Shifting a bit, careful not to jostle Elias around too much, Michael propped his arms up on the wall either side of him.

"I'm going to have that woman's head. For real this time," Elias let out a small grumble.

"You know what? I may actually join you on that. Just this once," Michael said, a bit distracted by the warm breath tickling just below his jaw.

"Pff, you? Go out on Gertrude?" He laughed, "If I live to see the day."

"Well, I'm going to have a very respectful, but firm, conversation with her when we get back, that's for certain. About perhaps not sending us off to deal with any more _vampires_." Michael shook his head with a snort, "Lord, I cannot believe I've just said that."

"Hey, join the club. 'Bout time," Elias lightly poked Michael in the knee.

"You know what? While I'm at it, I think I might just have to have a conversation with Emma as well about all this. And perhaps stop by artifacts for...what was it you said? A teapot?"

"Hell yeah, atta boy. Give her hell. Actually, mind if I jump in on that? She's been stealing my lunches last couple weeks and playing the saint whenever I confront her on it before tattling on me to Delano. Real irritating."

The arm wedged between him and Elias had begun to fall asleep, but Michael didn't dare move it, numbness be damned.

"Hey," Michael said, a thought suddenly occurring to him, "You got your wallet on you?"

"I've got a few pounds with me...why do you ask?"

"I think mine fell out of my pocket at some point back there. And since I was the one that ordered the cab..."

"Ah. Shit," Elias muttered, finally hoisting himself back up into a proper sitting position.

"My ankle's still bust too...think you're up for carrying me to the tube?" Michael tried, watching Elias carefully.

He merely grinned though, shrugging casually. "Sure. Why not?"

"Think we'll draw too much attention with, you know, all the blood?"

Elias gave another shrug, before rolling off the wall and to his feet. He grinned down at Michael. "Eh, it's the underground. They've seen worse."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I know, I know, this is like the rarest of rare pairs. But hear me out. These two? Would be cute together ok.
> 
> This fic was 100% inspired by ZimTDraws' Gertrude-era archives artwork by the way, and you should totally check it out! I live for their Michael, not gonna lie.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr, at sweet--bun and as always, thanks for reading! :D


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